The Highwayman
by Soiree
Summary: AU. Set in 1811. He's as handsome and evil as highwaymen come. Hermione Granger never stood a chance.
1. Dead man walking

_Prologue- __Dead man walking._

"KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"

The faces around him were greedy. Greedy for pain. Greedy for entertainment. Greedy for death. The sweat was thick in the air, as he shouldered past a squabbling couple, each as determined as each other to get the ring-side view on the glorious spectacle of today.

For a moment, the woman paused in her argument, her eyes suspiciously taking in the low brim of his hat, covering his face and the rich silk handkerchief tucked in his sleeve. But with practised ease, he let the crowd surge around him, blocking her view.

A huge roar rose from the crowd; and he watched with regret as a lone man was lead onto the platform by two guards. He made no resistance; instead smiling guilelessly out at the gathering, even when the first smatter of rotten vegetables hailed the sky and struck his form, his cheek, his torso.

"You have five minutes."

His quick eyes saw the guard whisper into his friend's ear, whom bowed his head in proposal. The people saw that as a plea for mercy; but in their murder fuelled haze it was a little too late. They jeered and taunted, the catholic priest forming the cross with his fingers, as the highwayman walked by; warding off any evil.

"DIE! DIE! DIE!"

The crowd would not be abated until they saw their new victim, drawn and gutted by the hour. Even the elderly had made their presence; wanting to see the person who would enter hell before they.

"Ladies, ladies," his partner in crime drawled, and when a ferocious roar arose from the men, quickly added, " And gentlemen."

The statement was ironic.

There was not a single lady nor gent present. But it certainly helped to catch the peasants' attention. He smiled a wry smile, as he gazed up his friend, still keeping his charms and wits about him, when Death with his scythe only beckoned metres away.

" It is I, Six string Jack, standing before you in the year of the Lord, 1811. I put my highwaymen atrocities aside to welcome you warmly into the gates of hell." He laughed heartily, taking a sweeping bow, tipping an imaginary hat into the scorned audience. Already the noose was being slipped around his neck, as he continued his banter, readily hefting himself up on the stallion being lead onto the platform. Under the loud yells and glares, the horse shied away as Jack, ever the horse-lover, whispered a few comforting words into it's mane.

The horse nickered but remained still, and Jack looked truimphantly at the crowd. Even the toughest of warriors would have been have impressed to see how he handled the animal, that would subsequently lead to his death.

Thirty seconds left. Jack shrugged, before crying out, "Draco, my man. If you are here then ride as fast and hard as you can out of London. Rob all ye stagecoaches for me, would ya? And it wouldn't hurt to stick a knife in one or two high society members either." He grinned.

" Shall long shall ye prosper!" He yelled, as the guard behind the horse, abruptly brought his hand down on it's flank. The horse bolted forward, carrying Jack with it as his neck provided a satisfying _crack _when the noose pulled tight.

He stared up at the dead body swinging to and fro among the gallows.

"Your wishes will be commemorated, my friend," he whispered before touching the brim of his hat in respect.

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A/N: This is an original fic that never saw the light of day.... until today. Naturally I've converted a few details to fit into dramione... so hope you likes!

Reviews will give you a faster update.


	2. Looming omen

**Warning:** Some mature stuff ahead. Do not read if you're not old enough. there will be historical inconsisties in my story. i'm not writing to inform, i'm writing to relive :) (gosh, that sounds so poetic....:):)

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1. Looming omen

**x0x**

"--_His dagger cut through the lace strings and the corset fell with ease upon the ground. Her breasts heaved in the firelight as she braced her hands upon the back of the chair. The Lord watched her naked back glisten in the moonlight, before reaching out and roughly cupping her breasts in two hands, teasing her aching nipples with strong lithe fingers. Immediately heat pooled between her legs as she leant back across his bare chest, and let out such a hearty moan that he almost cummed within his breeches, the only thing stopping him from burying his arousal within her searing heat-"_

A loud groan filled the interior of the carriage. However unlike the moan from the story being read aloud, this groan was full of pain. Maria ignored her mistress, and continued reading.

" _The Lord demanded, "Who is your master?" as his finger gentally eased around her clitoris. The pool of desire did not go un-noticed by the Lord, and he smirked, sliding two fingers up her womb; only ceasing his ascent when his fingers met the musky aroma of her maidenhead. His wanton face was illuminated for a brief second by a bolt of lightening before the aftermath; a roll of coarse thunder drowned out her pleasured gasp-"_

Outside the carriage; through the translucent mesh of netting; the landscape was illuminated by a bolt of lightening. Both girls shrieked when a clap of thunder sounded overhead shortly after.

Lady Hermione glared fiercely at her maid, with a hand placed over her racing heart. Maria blinked innocently back, clutching the book---yet another romance novel---against her chest. "Maria, I understand your need for reading _such _novels---but must you really read it out aloud? Who has put you up to this? Do you wish to make your mistress ill by all that nonsense you're spouting?" Hermione did indeed feel faint. At the age of seventeen, the idea of a man demanding "Who is your master?" was nearly enough for her to demand the carriage to be pulled over right this instant. She was sure there was some woodland nearby, she could be sick in.

Maria had the decency to blush, casting her raven eyelashes downward as she worried her lip. Finding that she could not keep the truth any longer; she exclaimed, "It was your aunt, Lady Hermione, she is deeply worried about you." She looked up, and let her green eyes catch Hermione's startling brown. " I mean, why not? You are of seventeen years, my lady, and have reached the marrigeable age in which every lad in the county wants you as his wife. But yet you resist their charms and instead wallow your pity out in the stables, where you groom _Hetty." _Maria frowned, " Which you must know, my lady, is not a suitable place to be of a lady of your vocation--"

Hermione's heart swelled as she thought of her beloved pony, a young mare that had been injured in a cart incident two years back with a previous owner. But she returned with a bump, when Maria accused her of being more interested in animals than of acquiring a husband of good fortune.

" I know what you all think," she said bitterly, "My aunt. The servants, everyone. They think me a silly woman, because they somehow have come to the conclusion that I am looking for my true _love. _Well, let me tell you a secret, Maria. There is no love. I do not believe he exists. When I hide out in the stables; it is not because I yearn for my knight to come riding on his white horse and save me but rather because I find Hetty a more decent listener than any of you! I can talk about anything with her. The weather, the garden, recent happenings in the neighbourhood without involving talk about balls, men, or _love _at all!"

For a long moment, silence reigned before Maria meekly replied, "Perhaps it would have been wise to have said that I had wished to read this book, out of my own free will?"

Hermione glared fiercely at Maria for a while, before breaking out into racuous laughter and clapping her hand on her thigh. "Maria, you never fail to cease to amuse me so. I guess the many years we spent together did some good after all." She settled back on her seat, resting her head once again on the rest as she closed her eyes. "Although I despise romance novels of _love _and such; I rather prefer listening to your cockney accent then that terrible thunder outside. I hope that you do continue reading aloud; and for both our sakes that I fall asleep!"

Maria's eyes softened; cracking a wry smile at her mistress; before opening the book once again to page 253. Although she had thought the book was too frisky for her nature; the display of content had definitely kept her distracted from the hailing rain outside; battering against the carriage as it wound itself along the carriage track. She felt incredibly sorry for the coachmen outside, cracking their whips along the horse's flanks as water streamed down their top hats and onto their fine suits. She could only but imagine them looking like drowned rats.

Hermione cleared her throat; and Maria jumped lightly on her seat. "Oh, right away missus! I mean, my lady..." And then to echo Hermione, Maria coughed twice before launching back into the story.

"_- His breeches were unbuckled were agonizing slowness, slipping down his toned thighs and releasing the erect organ nestled within his curls. It jutted out proudly, it's crown a blisteringly swollen purple as it weeped silently, silvery white tears of satisfaction-" _Maria gulped loudly, before sneaking a peek up at her mistress. To her relief, the added combination of Maria's voice and the rocking of the carriage had sent Hermione off into a dreamless slumber. Maria knew that she could stop reading right there, but the hypnotic words etched upon the paper seemed to be calling to her. Her eyes once again were drawn to the page-

"_- Just to gauge her reaction, the Lord leaned temptestously forward, letting his organ brush against the pearly skin of her buttocks. She gasped at once, bucking her hips wildly as she seeked contact of the taunting organ that hung low and proud, between her wretched Lord's thighs. He taunted her a few seconds more, leaning back as his eyes fell upon her swaying buttocks and the pearl gates that lay just out of sight. And then conceding defeat, and delivering a loud moan into her wet hair, the Lord let himself be nestled and cupped by her two cheeks of temptation. His chest bathed in sweat as she rested upon him-"_

The carriage came to a sudden halt, stopping so abruptly that Hermione was thrown awake. She sat up with panic, glancing sideways frantically for the unseen attacker. But Maria, oblivious to it all, continued reading-

"_He demanded hotly, "Do you wish for you womb to milk me?"_

_"_Maria, something is in the wrong here....we have stopped! Maria are you listening?"

"_Her answer was indistinguishable as he bit her earlobe. Continuing his intense questioning, he quiered, " You grow warm for me. Is that what you want? Your milky thighs wrapped around my narrow waist, as I take your maidenhood over and over again?"_

The sounds of struggle were heard outside as Maria read on, and Hermione listened with baited breath, hand over heart. She shrunk back on her seat when an ominous shadow flitted over the netted curtain before disappearing altogether. Hermione could not deny that there wasn't any people outside any longer. It was truly bad lack to be robbed by bandits, she had heard, with regal ladies merely escaping with their lives.

_" --The girl whimpered as he whispered, "So what is it to be? Your maidenhood or your reputaion?"_

_"_Your money or your life?"

Maria's voice seemed to echo within the carriage, but by the time it had died away, Hermione had come to an alarming conclusion- why on earth did the echo have the words _maidenhood _and _reputation _replaced with _money _and _life_?

The question was forgetten, when a loud _gun-shot _was sounded from the outside. Hermione and Maria both shrieked, and clung to the other as further sounds of struggle reached their ears. Maria was as pale as a sheet. " Highwaymen!" she hissed, making the sign of the cross against both shoulders and forehead. Then with practised ease and calm that one could only posess in an emergency, she held Hermione by the shoulders and shook her lightly.

" Listen to me, my lady! Highwaymen would not hesitate to slit your throat, as soon as the look of you. Your life is of more value than mine. So it is in my duty of protection, to demand that we switch dresses right at this moment!"

"What?" Hermione cried, " What would that acheive?"

Maria held Hermione's hand to her chest, setting her face in a watery smile. "I know the ways of these highwaymen, missus. So if they were to think I were you, then I would know how to get out of this situation with nothing more than a few backhands around the face-"

Hermione opened her mouth to resist, but Maria was having none of it. "Your safety is paramount, my lady, trust me in this. Now hand me that dress before I rip it off you myself! We will get out of this with nothing more than a few cuts or so, I promise you! And remember my lady---always look at the ground. They would not do much to harm you then."

Hermione nodded grimly; trusting the maid without a sliver of doubt. She set work on her stockings, whilst Maria made sure to slide the clips out of Arianna's hair and into her own.

When the second gunshot sounded it was a sudden bolt to the system, and the pair started shedding clothing faster than ever. Maria only had a simple grey dress to contend with, but Hermione, with petticoats and laces was a different case altogether. Hermione felt tears welling up as she struggled to unlace her corset. "Maria, " she gasped before her hands were slapped away by Maria's and replaced with her own.

"Silly girl," Maria muttered as she quickly retied the lace that Hermione had managed to get undone. "We do not have time for this! Here just put on my dress on top, and I shall put on yours! And unless they strip us down to our underwear, they shall never know the difference!"

If Hermione had been told twenty-four hours earlier that her shy maid would be ordering her around in an event of an emergency, she would have outright laughed. But such a situation was upon them, and Hermione did not find it funny at all. In fact, she felt oddly grateful, as she dried her wet tears upon the hem of the unremarkable grey gown. Maria straightened her skirts, having done it thousands of times in the past, but never on her own body. The gown fit Hermione better but in the light of the situation, Maria supposed she could not fuss over such details.

Once again, they interlinked hands, squeezing their eyes shut as the dreaded sounds of footsteps squelching through the mud reached their ears.

The carriage door- the last barrier between the unknown enemy and them- swung open easily and a large gust of wind swarmed into the carriage.

"We have you surrounded, ladies. I think it might be in your best interests, if you both were to step out- would you not agree?" a gruff voice growled.

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A/N: Yes your eyes are not deceiving you. TWO updates in one day! Now that warrants a review don't you think?? lol

And many thanks to TwilightDreamz13, my first reviewer for this story. Much loves!


	3. The underworld beckons another

Enjoy! :D

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2. The underworld beckons another

**x0x**

Maria got out first; adamantly ignoring the mocking hand offered to her in case she needed any help on her descent. The cleanliness in her won out, and she held her skirt up to her ankles, not wanting any mud to damage the fine silk. Maria needn't have bothered. With a fierce wrench, she found herself trapped in a pair of sturdy arms, her shoulders nearly popping out of their sockets as they were pulled backward.

"Now, now, my lady. I dunnae think the idea of a lady displaying her ankles to three unruly men are the best of ideas, aye?" a voice whispered in her ear before barking loudly, "Bring that cowering maid out 'ere, will ya? We dunnae have much time!"

Maria considered stomping on the brute's feet, for the hell out of it, then sprinting out into the wilderness. But when she heard Herimione give a sharp cry after being tugged out of the carriage and shoved hands and knees into the mud, she had a change of heart. Hermione was her life. Even though they were similar in years, with Maria only being four years older than her mistress, Maria felt that Hermione had always come under her wing, though Hermione would probably chew grass than admit it.

"Let go of my la-" she stopped herself just in time, before rushing on. "- maid! Unhand her this very moment! She is of no value to you--your entire business lies with me!"

Hermione on the otherhand, was not doing what she was told but staring at their captors in an ashen-faced manner. She found them rather unlikeable without even having to see past their black masks. She disliked the one handling Maria the most; her gut churning when his hand tightened on Maria's breast. The second; a tall wiry slip of a man dressed in dragonhide boots circled her three times before slamming his foot upon her back; and sent Hermione crashing into the mud once again.

Maria gasped as cold fingers encircled her neck, carefully unclasping the pendant she had adorned just minutes before. "You will nay be needing that anymore, my lady," he informed before slipping his fingers to the sapphire embedded broach pinned to her chest. He made short work of it; long pale fingers flicking the pin open and sliding it out, making sure that it slid into Maria's breast at least twice, half-way up the needle. The high keening noise she produced was blotted by his calloused hand, as he finally pocketed the broach, the pin still covered in blood as it joined the necklace.

"So what about it, lads?" he asked. "Fancy some cherry pie tonight?"

The third captor, who so far had not uttered a word or moved from his spot by the carriage door, stroked the jagged scar across his neck. The mask did little to hide it, but he did not wish for it to be hid in the first place. "Cherry pie?" he croaked, "But Blaise, you dunnae bring any."

The one identified as William turned out to be the horrendous man holding Maria captive within his brawny arms. " Vincent, you dolt! Why did ya mention my name? And how cannae you know cherry pie? It is within a woman's womb!"

Maria started struggling harder, buckling wildly against the highwayman. "You imbecile!" she shouted, "You cannot expect to get way with this! I know your name and trust me in this--you will be hanging in Tyburn before the year is out! You and your little merry band of men!"

Peter looked confused. However nobody would have been unable to tell through the mask, if he hadn't pondered, " You wish to eat this lady's womb? But why Blaise? It will _taste _disgusting--no offense intended, lady."

If Blaise could've have slammed his hand into his forehead, he would have done. But alas this situation did not allow it.

"Why Lord, have you cursed me with these nincompoops? Poppycock! I shall not dither here any longer! Men I plan to have my wicked way with this woman, so go into the bushes and have a toilet break- nay?"

The rain had slowly started back again, the light drizzle once again coating the night sky. On both sides of the carriage track were thick brambles and thicket. So impenetrable that one was surely to get lost, if he wandered too far. Scarcely a soul wandered this road from London to York by foot, the tales of murderous cut-throats and brutal highwaymen deterring many a coachman from taking the path.

Blaise cast a glance to see if the maid had bothered to get up since being shoved to the ground, and noted with pleasure that she lay unmoving in a slump upon a massive mud puddle. He hoped that she had suffocated upon it, as it would require one less person to cut-throat by the end of the night.

"Will my lady give me thy pleasure of looking up her skirts?"

Out of all things Blaise had been expecting; the least of all was a slap. But then considering his latest royalty was a prude of the highest decree; the act of violence from her part was only predictable. He grinned wildly; letting the gold tooth do it's magic in terms of distracting her, before lashing out a leg and sweeping the lady of her feet- literally.

"Get _off _me- you _buffoo-mpfhr-"_Maria fought valiantly against the dead weight settled on top of her, but the rook had no intention of letting her go. It was almost as if he orchestrated the entire incident in that piggish mind of his before even settling on which carriage he wanted to attack! He had to be sick of the mind! It was the only explanation.

Maria knew a person ill of the brain coupled with a dangerous weapon would only lead to a tragedy. Why Shakespeare spoke of it in his many plays that Hermione had given her the pleasure of reading; giving books Hermione received herself at michaelmas or birthdays but did not enjoy perusing. Her struggling ceased when the cold butt of a gun glanced across her temple, sure to flower into a beauty of a bruise; if she were to live that long. Her eyes rolled deep in her head, as that nasty man rubbed his hips coaxingly with hers. It was all she could do to not throw up in her mouth.

Since Blaise's mouth was buried at the hollow of her neck; it was quite a revelation when she saw Hermione cough weakly in the mud; her thin shoulders racking up and down before lying still again.

" My cherry pie..." he whispered against her throat and made a move to get up again. His progress was halted when Maria weaved her fingers through his staunchy locks and sent him crashing back upon her throat cavity once again. "Yes, yes, " she whispered distractedly as she watched Hermione's fingers twitch slightly before blindly patting the ground until her hands firmly grasped the helm of a thick branch lying conveniently nearby.

To make sure that Blaise did not notice her quickened breathing, Maria expertly scratched at his head; wrinkling her nose in disgust when he let out a loud purr and rubbed his head affectionately against her bosom. He nipped at her collarbone, and Maria made sure to let out a breathy moan to disguise Hermione's movements as she lifted herself up to all fours and began to crawl towards their direction.

Hermione was not thinking properly. The carriage way that just hours before provided such protection against the elements; now stood derelict with the door creaking in the wind as it repetitiously swung to and fro; slamming into the outer frame each time. She timed her movements carefully; making sure to only bring a arm or knee forward only when a deafening _bang _ricocheted through the air.

Maria was so fixated upon her mistress and her doings that she did not notice Blaise had inched up her dress; petticoats and all; to her thigh.

But Blaise was not stupid; no matter what company he chose to keep. After he had drawn his thumb all along her calf; he looked up to see if the Lady was shivering in pleasure.

She was not.

Her eyes reflected her apprehension, and dare he say it...._hope? _Now, why would a Lady be looking hopeful? He inched himself up her body and peered into the deep brown, his eyes widening when he saw something more than emotion reflected there---he squinted, trying to make out the dark mass reflected in the watery sheen. The dark mass roiled and contracted, and finally two spindles of blackness shot upwards.

Blaise rolled out of the way just in time.

With an agonized screech, Hermione bought the branch down with all her willpower. Instead of hitting him in the back though, Maria's stomach was next in line. The answering screech that echoed from Maria's mouth was painful to hear, and Hermione let go off the branch as if it were burning coal. "No..." she whispered, hand over mouth as Maria's beautiful green eyes rolled into her head and a dribble of blood worked down her chin.

"No, _No, _NO!" Hermione yelled dropping to her knees and cradling Maria's head in her arms. She sobbed loudly, wiping away strands of muddied hair from Maria's pale face and bending till her puckered brow met Maria's cold nose. When a weak cough sounded in her ear, Hermione thought her imagination was playing havoc on her. But when she glanced teary-eyed back into Maria's eyes, she noticed the girl smiling weakly back up at her.

"Silly girl," she whispered heavily, "You didn't actually think I died on you, did you?"

The responding yelp was answer enough. Maria couldn't help grinning as Hermione dove down and with her tattered arms smashed her to her chest. Maria tucked her head into her mistress's shoulder and patted her awkwardly with one arm, the rain having eased into a mild shower. It was whilst squinting through the drizzle did she notice Blaise glaring ferociously at the reunited pair with an evil glint in his eye, having been cheated out of his "cherry pie."

Maria's eyes were dull as she watched him reach into his boots, and flick out a dagger, that glinted just as evilly as his eyes.

"Hermione..." she tried to rasp, trying to fight off the girl's crushing grasp. Hermione however, only chose to hug her all the more tighter.

Blaise had stood up by now, brushing off the mud clumps from where he had landed heavily in the peat. The pistol he had earlier tucked in his pants knocked away into the howling sleet. With predatory panther-like steps he crept behind Hermione, her delighted cries drowning out his squelching boots, and held the dagger high above his head.

In that moment, without a shadow of a doubt Maria knew what she had to do. Sacrificing her life would mean nothing if Hermione didn't escape with hers. As Blaise started to drive the dagger forward, Maria used the last of her waning strength to heave the slumped girl on top of her sideways. The dagger whistled through the air before burrowing deep into Maria's ribs, cutting through skin and muscle and easliy slipping past bone until it hit her septum with a _clink_.

Blaise's triumphant eyes glittered, before shock made it's residue.

As one without any remorse would expect, it wasn't for his actions. Oh no, it was something far more sinister. First, he hadn't been sure if he was correct. But as a rabbit fled from it's burrow at the side of the road, hopping in the direction of west, the unmistakable sound of a lone horse cantering hard against the wind wound itself down the track. William dared to glance up, and gulped when he saw a flock of crows flying high over a western current, their squawking unquestionable. They were fleeing from something evil riding fast and gaining, from the east.

"Nay..." he whispered, "Not the _Night-Rider_...."

Almost tripping in haste from getting away from the dying body, Blaise swivelled, searching wildly for the two companions he had dispelled so quickly earlier.

"We have to ride west!" he howled and launched himself at the horse he had tied up be the side of the track earlier.

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Many cookies to my SECOND reviewer.....julia2332. Love ya loads!! Now is anyone willing to be my third, fourth and fifth?? lol


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